The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead

by David Wake

  “You were right too.”

  “What do you know?”

  Earnestine didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know much, so she changed the conversation: “Georgina, have you finished that?”

  “Not yet,” Georgina said.

  The coffee pot sighed and then began hissing angrily.

  “Hurry up, will you.”

  “There are dots and things.”

  “Umlauts.”

  “Nearly there.”

  Earnestine scalded the roof of her mouth with the coffee, but she kept drinking such was the wonderful warming effect.

  Coffee – jolly bohemian really.

  Georgina finally finished and Earnestine handed the original to Captain Merryweather. While he was reading, Earnestine checked Georgina’s copy over, the umlauts and accents were heavy, but diligently present. She hid it away in her shoulder bag.

  “I can make some of it out, it sounds serious,” Merryweather said. “Lacks details. An attack on the British, I’m sure. What else did you discover?”

  “Not much,” Earnestine finally admitted. “A lot of areas in the castle were out of bounds.”

  “When did that ever stop you?” Georgina said.

  “Gina!”

  She was going to have to take that girl to one side because clearly a good talking to was long overdue. It was self–evident that spending a lot of time with this man – officer or no officer, he was still a man – and alone together too, had clearly had a debilitating effect on the poor girl.

  “There’s also this,” Earnestine said, taking out the small envelope that she’d filled with the strange chemical and handing it to Merryweather. “Careful!”

  He examined the contents, picking up a few of the yellowish–grey granules to inspect them more closely. He sniffed them, felt the substance in his fingertips and finally, gingerly, he tasted it.

  “What is it?” he asked finally.

  “I don’t know, but they had crates of the material and were filling canisters with nozzles to load it onto their airships.”

  Georgina pushed closer. “Let me see?”

  “Gina, please, you’re not going to know.”

  “It’s silver iodide,” Georgina said, and, when they looked at her as if she was mad, she added: “It’s used in making daguerreotypes, the natural philosophy of making automatic pictures.”

  Earnestine realised that Georgina had been spending too much time in museums.

  “It’s as we feared,” Merryweather said as he considered the information much as he weighed the sample in his hand. “They must plan to fly their airships up and down the country photographing. They’ll know everything about us: our defences, deployments, railway lines, everything… they’ll know more about us than we do.”

  “For photography, they’d mix the silver iodide with egg white or some fixing agent on the paper,” Georgina said. “They wouldn’t have it in canisters.”

  “Perhaps it’s a new process,” speculated Merryweather.

  “How much silver iodide was there?” Georgina asked.

  “Canisters,” Earnestine made a shape in front of her with her hands about a yard long and perhaps a foot in diameter. “I’d say five by five in a crate, twenty five, times at least three dozen crates that I saw. There was a variety of designs to the canisters.”

  “That would be enough silver iodide to supply all the photographic experts in the whole of Great Britain for ten years.”

  “Gina, you must be mistaken,” Earnestine said.

  Georgina shook her head.

  “Then something else?” Merryweather wondered. He sprinkled the chemical back into the envelope and brushed his hands absently on his trousers to remove any residue. “The letter talks about military manoeuvres in London?”

  “You can read German?” Georgina asked.

  “A little,” said Merryweather. He shook his head. “It suggests that they are amassing an army in London. They have regiments already there and the last divisions will be en route soon.”

  “With all respect, that seems impossible,” Earnestine said.

  “They could move whole regiments in those Zeppelins,” Georgina suggested. “They’re huge.”

  “It’s mostly gas, hydrogen, for buoyancy,” Merryweather said. “According to our reports, there are cabins in the gondola underneath, and the actual body of the airship is hollow; there are softer balloons for the hydrogen inside, so you can store things and the crew live there, but most of the space is taken up with balloons and fuel in the form of what’s called ‘blugas’ for the engines.”

  “And there’s the weight,” Earnestine added.

  “Yes, you couldn’t move an army by air.”

  Earnestine grimaced: “I agree, but they were very confident, particularly that Graf Gustav Zala – a nasty foreign piece of work.”

  Merryweather stowed the original letter and the packet of silver iodide away, and took out a map. He brought it round to show Earnestine, pointing out Innsbruck and Geneva. He traced the rail lines back towards the college and then on into France.

  “They’ll expect us all to go that route,” Earnestine said, thinking aloud. “If I go this way, Vienna, then I can catch the much faster Orient Express.”

  “Deeper into the Germanic countries.”

  “A risk I’ll have to take.”

  “And our route?”

  “Our?”

  “Georgina and myself.”

  “I think not: I would have to travel alone and a woman travelling alone is… and Georgina would need protection as well.”

  “I hardly think that I’m much of a threat.”

  Earnestine gave him one of her tight smiles: “Georgina and I will take the train, you will take the other letter and find another route.”

  “Ness, it would be better to have a few of the officers with us,” said Georgina.

  “Gina! I’ve spoken.”

  “Perhaps if we stayed together,” Merryweather suggested. “I could post this letter to Caruthers and McKendry, with instructions, and that way our forces will increase.”

  “Very well.”

  And that, thankfully, was that.

  Miss Georgina

  Vienna was a gorgeous city by all accounts. Georgina had been asleep in the carriage by the time they arrived and she’d seen nothing of it. She was so sore when they climbed out: her limbs ached, everywhere, from walking, climbing, falling and running, and then sleeping awkwardly. She wanted a hot bath and then some hot Cadbury’s cocoa essence, preferably with a dash of rum. And sweets.

  The smells around the station were mouth–watering: stalls with pretzels, chestnuts and…

  “Come along, Gina!”

  Clearly, her sister never ate and probably survived by drinking the blood of virgins.

  “What are you sniggering about, Gina? Honestly.”

  Merryweather had gone ahead to the postal service and to organise their tickets. He’d also nipped into the telegraph office to contact Caruthers and McKendry. In other words, he’d done everything that her big sister had wanted. Georgina pictured them together: Merryweather kneeling in front of Earnestine back in the mountain bothy, touching and caressing her face with antiseptic, agreeing with her every word and forgetting that Georgina even existed. Not that Georgina minded: what was he to her, after all; they’d only just met and never actually been introduced properly and it was so unfair.

  “Don’t sniff!”

  “Sorry Ness.”

  “Use your handkerchief.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t whine, you’re such a baby – ah, there he is now!”

  The Orient Express was an elegant triumph of the railways with its blue livery and its embellished gold coat of arms of the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons–Lits. Fine ladies and smart gentlemen walked along the platform looking for their particular coach. Uniformed porters weaved their way through the throng as they expertly wheeled fancy luggage, including their own hastily bought belongings, to and fr
o. In contrast to all this splendour, the three of them looked bedraggled, tired and hardly the right sort. Conversations and shouts in many languages filled the air pierced by a periodic shrill whistle. The steam engines themselves were like sleeping dragons awakening.

  Captain Merryweather arrived and took Earnestine’s arm to guide her through the maelstrom. Georgina was left to hurry behind. Smoke hissed from the engines across the platform as they passed.

  “I managed to book a cabin,” Merryweather explained.

  “A cabin?” Earnestine stressed the indefinite article.

  “Yes, in the last coach.”

  Earnestine looked at the tickets: “I see.”

  When they reached the last sleeping coach before the baggage car, Merryweather swung the door open and helped them both on board. The Captain had to squeeze past Georgina to reach Earnestine, who had found the right cabin first.

  Earnestine looked the facilities up and down, turned around and looked them up and down again. Georgina was still stuck in the corridor unable to see what her elder sister was double checking. People pushed past, a porter, some ladies and a man with his wife.

  “There are four bunks,” Merryweather pointed out.

  “I’m sure Georgina and I will find it adequate.”

  “I was thinking…”

  Earnestine pointedly raised an eyebrow in his direction. She was a tease; that was it: she’d got him eating out of her hand, attending to her hand and foot, rubbing her face with ointment – which had not hurt that cold harridan – and just generally ignoring Georgina.

  “Wouldn’t it be safer if Arthur…” Georgina paused deciding what to say: “I mean Captain Merryweather is here to protect us.”

  “Protect us!? We are two young ladies travelling alone in a foreign country. We need protection from his sort… no offence.”

  “None taken,” Merryweather said.

  “What will people say?”

  “It is an emergency,” Georgina said.

  “How will people know it’s an emergency? Will you go and announce to everyone that we are being pursued by hostile forces?”

  “I didn’t think that–”

  “We are travelling incognito, which is all the more reason to observe proper decorum.”

  “Yes, but–”

  “We will sleep here and I’m sure the Captain has slept in worse places than somewhere else on the train.”

  “I’m sure there’s a suitable easy chair in the restaurant carriage that’ll do as a billet,” said Merryweather.

  “There, see,” said Earnestine, “do you see, Gina?”

  “Yes, but–”

  “I specifically told you not to go on an adventure.”

  “It wasn’t an adventure.”

  “What do you call running out from school and tagging along with various army types? I mean who are they? What regiment do they come from? Have there been proper introductions?”

  “It wasn’t a bally adventure.”

  “Georgina! I will thank you not to use such language!”

  “It’s not a swear word.”

  “It is a euphemism for the ‘B’ word and we do not use the ‘B’ word.”

  “You’re horrible!”

  “Right, I see you have clearly been associating with the military and have forgotten yourself.”

  “Ness,” Georgina howled as Earnestine grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, bent her over and frog–marched to the corner of the cabin. Earnestine wrenched open the cupboard to reveal the tiny sink and mirror.

  “I say,” said Merryweather. “You’re not her colour sergeant.”

  “I would thank you to mind your own business,” Earnestine said to his reflection.

  “Yes, but I think–”

  “No, you do not.”

  “Perhaps–”

  “This is a ladies’ bedroom!”

  So it was, and Merryweather went red: “M– m– my apologies, sorry, so…” and he beat a hasty retreat.

  “Right,” said Earnestine, when she and her sister were alone.

  “Ness, please…”

  Earnestine took Georgina to the sink, pushed her head over the bowl and then scooped up a few slivers of soap.

  “Open!”

  “Nn.. nn…”

  Earnestine yanked her sister’s hair.

  “Arr! Guk… neuurghh…”

  Earnestine rubbed it back and forth until finally the old soap lathered. She forced her hand back and forth along Georgina’s gums and teeth.

  “There,” she said, not unkindly. “Rinse. Spit. Again.”

  Georgina ran the tap and cupped water up with her hand to try and remove the carbolic taste. Her hair was wrenched to one side and her eyes watered from the shock.

  “And, Gina, don’t blub.”

  Georgina held the bowl and did blub; she let it all out: not the shame of being punished or the vile taste in her mouth, but the horror that Arthur had seen this happen to her and anger that he’d done nothing to stop the hideous harpy treat her in such a… yes, bally rotten fashion.

  Earnestine was unpacking.

  “We cabled ahead for supplies,” Earnestine said. “After all, we don’t want to stand out.”

  Georgina fought the impulse to sniff: “When?”

  “You were asleep.”

  “Is there something nice to wear?”

  “You’ll wear what you’re given.”

  They washed and dressed in silence. Hair brushing was particularly painful after their experiences and Georgina found the new corset would take getting used to. After it had been tied at the back, Georgina tried to loosen the cords, but she couldn’t and she absolutely was not going to ask Earnestine.

  Once everything of theirs was stowed away, the remaining and ignored luggage became embarrassing.

  “These…” Georgina began, but it was obvious whose they were.

  “They are for your Captain.”

  “He’s not my Captain.”

  “I’ll have a porter take them to him.”

  “Ness, he can’t wash and change in the restaurant.”

  “He should have booked two cabins.”

  “There probably weren’t two left.”

  Because they were in the last passenger coach, they had to manoeuvre along the corridor for two coaches and cross the rattling divide twice, which was rather frightening, to reach the restaurant car. Captain Merryweather was standing at the bar looking very rough, but chipper with a whiskey in his hand. Earnestine gave him the key.

  “Ah yes, I must give this a trim,” he said brushing his finger along his moustache. “And a shave.”

  “Don’t be too long,” Earnestine simpered, much to Georgina’s irritation.

  Merryweather gave a little nod and then squeezed past Georgina, his body forced to push against hers and so close that Georgina could smell the whiskey. She looked away, feeling it well within her rights to ignore him completely and yet, even craning her neck far to one side, she suddenly found herself looking into his blue eyes.

  “Georgina,” he said, and then he went on his way.

  “Arthur…” she murmured, but he was gone.

  They had iced tea while they waited.

  The Maître d’Hotel saw them to a table and held their chairs out for them to sit. Merryweather waited until they were settled. After a term of gruel at the Eden College for Young Ladies and hardtack rations on the mountain, Georgina found the menu utterly mouth–watering. Her attention darted around the many options, the French words a blur of promises. She adored choosing.

  “Would you?” Earnestine asked Merryweather handing her menu over to him.

  “Certainly.”

  He called the Maître d’Hotel over and ordered in French, so Georgina had no idea what was coming.

  The first course was oysters.

  Merryweather and Earnestine relished them, cracking the shells with the sharp implements and slurping them down the gluttonous pleasure. Georgina tried as best she could, inserting the shuc
king knife near the hinge, but it just wouldn’t.

  “Oh, give it to me,” said Earnestine. She leant over, snatched the cutlery off Georgina, and split a couple of shells for her.

  “Expertly done,” said Merryweather.

  Georgina hated them both: and she hated the look of the oyster and the way it slithered down her throat.

  The soup came with Italian pasta, which was much better, as was the fish course, which was a turbot in green sauce. After that Georgina tucked into the chicken ‘à la chasseur’, but struggled when the fillet of beef with ‘château’ potatoes arrived, and could only pick at the ‘chaud–froid’ of game animals in a lettuce base. They’d started with white wine and by the time they switched to red, Earnestine relented and let Georgina have a glass. By the end of the evening, she’d had three!

  When the waiter removed their plates, Georgina was simply engorged, the whalebones gripping her waist cut into her expanded stomach, and she felt that, even without the corset, she wouldn’t be able to bend. That was it, she’d finished until she realised that the dessert trolley had chocolate pudding amongst its buffet of delights.

  Merryweather saw them back along the coaches to their cabin.

  Again, when she went demurely past him, Georgina was very aware of his presence, now garnished with cologne.

  “Good night,” he said. “Sleep well.”

  Once the two sisters were back inside, it was a relay race to get their corsets off. Despite everything, they were soon giggling just like old times. There were no arguments about who would have the top bunk as they both elected for the lower bunk on either side.

  “I couldn’t climb…”

  “Neither could I.”

  Georgina couldn’t stay mad at Earnestine or even sweet Arthur. If they wanted to step out together, then she’d approve. She would. They were right for each other. She also couldn’t stay awake even if she’d wanted to, despite Earnestine snoring.

  The train rattled on to Munich and they both slept.

  Miss Charlotte

  Alarms sounded: great blaring horns.

  Charlotte was torn: risk missing the airship to get her uniform or not.

  She ran against the flow of men to her room, undoing her clothes like some harlot as she went. She pulled off everything as fast as possible and gathered the airman’s uniform, clipped it together with impatient fingers. The damned boots wouldn’t come up at first.